


Somewhere Out There

by Findswoman



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Rebel base whereabouts, Squibs, antique shop, scavenging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findswoman/pseuds/Findswoman
Summary: A Squib shopkeeper hears news of her lost brother—and is faced with an important decision soon afterward. Yes, the title is from the eponymous song in "An American Tail" (1986), which likewise features a scene of a mouse sister pondering the whereabouts of her mouse brother…





	Somewhere Out There

Gleebaloola Fhlaskhalhoosa owned an antique shop in Coruscant’s CoCoTown district.   
  
Well—to call it an “antique shop” was like calling Imperial City a “charming little town.” It was a vast showroom of fine objects from across the galaxy, ranging from exquisitely crafted estate jewelry to magnificent furniture. The middle-aged, red-orange-furred Squib had opened the shop years before, after retiring from a long, successful career as a scavenger and treasure hunter. She had personally collected most of her merchandise during her extensive Galactic travels; whatever hadn’t had been brought to her by friends and family from throughout the Squib Polyanarchy. Her bangles clinked and her colorful skirts swished as she conducted potential customers through her shop; her beady black eyes sparkled as she entertained them with tales of the exotic locations and outlandish adventures that had brought her her many and varied wares. Each visitor to the shop received from her a toothy grin, a friendly wink, an exuberant greeting, and an equally exuberant leavetaking.   
  
None knew of the worry that gnawed at her.  
  
It was about her brother: Deebeeneebeedee, the second youngest (she was the second oldest). Though their family unit was renowned throughout the Squib Polyanarchy as collectors, treasure hunters, and scavengers, he had chosen a completely different professional path and entered the Rhinnal State Medical Academy. It figured, in a way: he’d always been the one rushing to get the medkit when one of his siblings or cousins accidentally got cut with a jeweled vibrodagger or inhaled toxic dust in some centuries-buried underground treasure chamber. At any rate, after graduating Rhinnal with honors, Deebs (as his siblings often called him) had gone into regular practice on Thyferra, becoming quite successful. At one point he had even been written up in the _Coruscanti Weekly_ ’s annual list of the Inner Rim’s Best Health Professionals. Gleebaloola had clipped his profile for her datascraps.  
  
And then, just about a year ago, he had closed his practice without any warning and left Thyferra. No one had heard from him since.   
  
Gleebaloola made it a point to check all the Polyanarchy holobulletins each day for any news of him (because Squibs stick with their own)—but there was nothing, always nothing. Of course, with this war on, anything was possible. That, and the whole COMPNOR thing about rounding up non-Humans and shutting down non-Human-run businesses. A few other members of her family unit working in the Mid Rim had fallen prey to them; what if they’d cracked down on Deebs and his practice, too? At least her part of CoCoTown seemed safe enough for now, though there’d been that thing with the Ithorian food cart down the road… she tried not to think about that. (She sure missed those peanut-sauce noodles, though.)  
  
So yes, she was worried. What had happened to poor old Deebs? Was he dead, or was he still somewhere out there? Could she find him again, just as she had found so many other treasures—that emerald brooch in that thrift shop on Vagran, that King Narmlé-period sugar spoon in the Theed Palace kitchen trash compactor? There was no way to know. She could only keep smiling and telling her stories.   


* * *

  
Then, one day, the holotransmission came.  
  
Gleebaloola had gotten the notification on her wrist unit one afternoon while wrapping up a Chandrilan porcelain tea service for a customer and ran to her back office to receive it as soon as closing time struck. She almost fainted when the projector sprang to life with an image of her brother in bright blue light that was almost the same color as his fur. In his typically genteel, educated, and (as M’ma always said) “most exceedingly un-Squibbish” manner, he told her where he was and what he was doing. His words replayed themselves in her head as she went about her business in the days that followed:  
  
_Good day, Gleebs, old thing. I hope this finds you well. I am well aware that I have much explaining to do, not only to you but to M’ma and P’po and everyone within our family unit. Without a doubt you have been worried sick about me (an expression that always makes me smile—that is the one ailment no one at Rhinnal ever trained me to cure!)._  
  
“You lookin’ at a true-green, real-live High-Alderaan-style _arm-wah_ right there, mhm! Finest Kashyyyk wroshyr wood, you bet!”  
  
_So—_ (and here he sighed) _—I shall tell you where I am. I shall tell only you, because you have always been my Gleebs that I could tell anything to, when the others just laughed. But I entreat you, by the Great Junk Heap of the Ancients, to say nothing of this to anyone._  
  
“If I do declare and exclaim, ma’am, that fire-ruby necklace looks _koovy_ on you! You wait just a tick or two, I getcha the matchin’ anklets, mhm…”  
  
_Gleebs, please do not be shocked. I have joined the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Yes, that is the same as the Rebellion everyone is talking about, but I do not care. I simply have seen too many innocent beings wrongly wounded, even permanently injured, at the hands of Imperial military forces. They’re often too frightened to tell me the details of what happened to them, but I can tell even so—the E-11 rifle leaves very distinctive burns._  
  
“Oh ho, ain’t you lucky, you found my Grizmallti convor, mhm! Just you take a looksee at that sheeny-shiny black ’namel finish. Stuff dreams is made of, you bet!”  
  
_But yes, at any rate, I have joined the Alliance, and I am working as a medic at a base of theirs on Atollon, in the system of the same name within the Lothal Sector. The facilities leave much to be desired, indeed, but I am doing well, and my presence is much appreciated, as I am one of only two medics presently stationed there. (Not counting the 1B units, of course.)_  
  
“Aw, isn’t that singin’-box a pretty beaut! Best Gand lacquer, ’longed to a great Findsman of yore gone by… but don’t you try and wind it up, you’ll getcher life force sucked right out, mhm…”  
  
_So._ (Another sigh.) _You will be wanting to give the rest of the family news of me, I’m sure. But I must earnestly beg you not to—for my safety, for my patients’ safety, for the safety of everyone around me. Tell them only that I am alive and well, and using my training to its fullest, in the service of great good._  
  
“Now that one, I’m not for complete and total sure. Cousin Mleeanna insists it’s a Rakatan incense burner, but Uncle Joobadooboo says Korribanian chafing dish. Me, I say it’d be awful drop-dead gorgeous on your end table, you bet!”  
  
_Well, I must take my leave for now. I’m expecting a patient in a few minutes, and I’ll need to consult the dossier beforehand; it’s a rare-species case. One of the challenges of my new position, I suppose._ (He chuckled.) _At any rate, please give everyone my love, take good care of yourself, and once again—tell no one. Flhaskhalhoosa out._  
  
“Ooh, you wants the tiara _and_ eardrops _and_ brooch set too? Extra-koovy! I’ll ring you up right straight-up now!”  
  
So—now that Gleebaloola finally knew where her brother was, she was even more worried than before. But at least he was still out there, somewhere.  


* * *

  
One Taungsday afternoon, close to closing time, a Kubaz entered Gleebaloola’s shop. The cloaked, goggled figure made straight for the counter, not turning to either side to look at merchandise. Gleebaloola felt her hackles twitch: this was clearly not a _customer._  
  
Nevertheless, she greeted the newcomer with characteristic enthusiasm: “Top o’ the rotation be yours! How might I possibly assist you this fine day, sir? Or... ma’am?”  
  
“You were right the first time,” replied the Kubaz, speaking Basic in a gargly, gravelly voice. “The fact is, I believe it is you who may be able to assist me.”  
  
“You may rest insured that I be atcher service.”  
  
“Well, then.” The visitor leaned forward over the counter. “I know your kind are, shall I say… plugged in to sources of information that few others are—”  
  
“Why, yesindeedsiree! Polyanarchy InfoHoloBulletins, Scavengers’ Weekly, Collection Consortium H-Notes—”  
  
“—yes, yes, of course. Well, it is information that I am after. A certain piece of information that is worth a significant sum of credits to my… er… employer. And being a generous sort, I am willing to share that sum with whomever may be able to provide me with that information. To wit:” The Kubaz leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The whereabouts of any base or cell connected with the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Planet, system, sector. I’m sure a well-connected Squib like yourself knows of at least one or two, now, hmmm?”  
  
“Well, er, now, let’s see...” Gleebaloola considered for a moment. The Alliance to Restore the Republic—that sounded familiar—wasn’t that where Deebs had said he had gone? She thought back to his transmission...  
  
Yes, that was it: _I have joined the Alliance, and I am working as a medic at a base of theirs on Atollon, in the system of the same name within the Lothal Sector._ There it was: planet, system, sector—everything.  
  
“How much, you say?”  
  
“I didn’t yet, but it would be five hundred and fifty thousand. At very least.”  
  
Five hundred and fifty thousand! Gleebaloola’s ears perked up. That would be enough to finally replace the clankety old Cargohopper with that T-16 Mark III she’d had her eye on...  
  
_But I entreat you, by the Great Junk Heap of the Ancients, to say nothing of this to anyone..._  
  
And she could use the leftovers to have the storage bunker reroofed...!  
  
_You will be wanting to give the rest of the family news of me, I’m sure. But I must earnestly beg you not to._  
  
And maybe even replace that one rickety display case with the door held on with spacers’ tape! (Because someone had already tried to steal one of the Kuati Deco crystal cocktail glasses, and she couldn’t have _that_ again…)  
  
_For my safety, for my patients’ safety, for the safety of everyone around me._  
  
“Well?” The Kubaz’s demand pierced her thoughts.  
  
Gleebaloola swallowed, then looked up, fixing her round black eyes on his round red goggles. “Sorry,” she said. “I gots nothing.”  
  
“You have nothing?”  
  
“Nopes, nothing.”  
  
“Really. Nothing at all on _any_ cell or _any_ base connected with the—”  
  
“Naught-o.”  
  
Silence for a moment. The Kubaz drew a hissing breath of frustration and disappointment, then: “Fine. Goodbye.”  
  
“Tweedle-oo. Come again.”  
  
The cloaked form flounced out of the shop. Gleebaloola locked the door behind him and turned out the lights in her showroom. Then she retired to her back office and sank into her armchair.   
  
“You’re safe, Deebs,” she sighed. “You’re safe out there, you bet.” ¶

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the Grizmallti convor and Maltese Falcon references goes to Raissa Baiard, who suggested it when I was stumped about what kinds of merchandise to feature at this point in the story.
> 
> Ithorian food cart with peanut-sauce noodles: Borrowed with gratitude from Mira_Jade’s Even Without a Voice, entry 3, which is also set in the CoCoTown district (posted on boards.theforce.net).
> 
> Wookieepedia links:  
> Cargohopper 102: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Cargohopper_102  
> Junk Heap of the Ancients: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Junk_heap_of_the_ancients  
> Kubaz (Garindan/Long Snoot’s species): http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Kubaz. After writing this I noticed that the Canon side of the article says they cannot speak Basic, but the Legends side says they can—so that’s what I am going with here.  
> Narmlé (ancient Naboo king): http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Narmlé  
> Rhinnal State Medical Academy: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rhinnal_State_Medical_Academy  
> Squib Polyanarchy: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Squib_Polyanarchy


End file.
